


A Smile Full of Teeth

by BlueDysania



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Helix Jail Breakout, Helix Security Agent (Original Character), Minor Character Death, Serious Injuries, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-25 22:09:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18710641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueDysania/pseuds/BlueDysania
Summary: During Doomfist's breakout at Helix Security Institute, he crosses many Agents who attempt to stop him. And some who simply beg not to die. Then he encounters one that does not bow or run. They smile and it looks like death.(Read tags.)





	A Smile Full of Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> There is an OC but... well, you'll see.
> 
> This was inspired by a prompt at OverPrompt on tumblr.

Doomfist stared at the Helix Security Agent that stood across the room from him, blocking his way out of the facility. A quick glance over the HSI Agent showed that clearly this one had encountered some form of Talon resistance somewhere else in the building. The teal armor was scratched and dented, a wound on their abdomen bled sluggishly and the limp they sported when they came out of cover was obvious in how they favored one leg over the other.

The pistol aimed at his head however was unwavering as was the firm line of the Agent’s mouth.

Doomfist curled his hands into fists and the Agent stepped _forward_.

“Desist.” The Agent said lowly. There was a tremor in their voice but it was not fear. It came from pain, likely from whatever damage they had sustained in coming to this point. The wound in their stomach bled a little more at the movement.

The gun did still did not waver.

“I will not.” He uttered, starting across the room. “Step aside and I will spare your life.” And he would. Two Agents further inside had crumpled and begged for mercy upon sight of him. It was not mercy that motivated him to walk by their shivering forms. Cowards found their own death eventually; he need not waste his time on them. Even the ones who fought and retreated were above them. Knowing when to step back and reevaluate is strength of a kind as well.

However, his gaze narrowed when the Agent moved, he had a feeling about this one.

The Agent slid one foot forward, the other back. It was stiff but firm, pain disregarded. The pistol was still trained on his forehead but the other hand up with a dagger that glinted sharply in the light, a well-cared for weapon.

“You will not defeat me.” He said, pace undeterred.

The Agent’s smile was grim and full of teeth. Doomfist was pleasantly surprised by the cool shiver that fell down his spine at the sight.

Doomfist reached the center of the room and the Agent rocked forward, firing three quick rounds. Doomfist lunged at the same time, felt the wind and heat graze the side of his skull and smiled ferally as he closed the distance. His fist came down where the Agent would be forced to dodge on their only good leg or else be forced to the ground on the leg that shook like a leaf in the wind.

He was stunned instead when the Agent planted that leg down hard and with a vicious cry, came in with surprising speed straight at him. Already closer than he’d expected. The knife glinted in the small space between them. The jagged edge, the sliver point, it would cut into him deeply despite how hardened he’d trained himself to be. It would not be a mortal wound, not with his resources and connections, but it would be a hindrance until he was healed.

_If_ it reached him.

Doomfist used his own momentum to side-step the lunge and then turned sharply just as the Agent tumbled, not in defeat, but into a crouch that they used to steady themselves and fire off another volley of bullets. Doomfist was already moving and as the pistol clicked empty, Doomfist moved in.

The Agent looked up. Doomfist looked down.

There was death in the ashen pallor of the Agent’s face, the numb fingers that let the pistol slip free, red on pale lips and red on teal.

There was no mercy in his fists.

The second passed and his fist connected to the Agent’s chest. An exhale forced from their lungs and they flew back to collide with the wall behind them, armor and helmet cracking ominously from impact. They slid down, slumped over, and were still.

Doomfist straightened, no, not still. Not yet.

Their chest stuttered but the rasp of breath was audible in its wetness.

Blood and dust pooled around them from wounds new and old and he knelt in it, gently assisting the Agent into leaning up against the wall. The whimper that escapes the Agent is met with his hand on their shoulder, support in vulnerability.

There is no shame here. Not for this soldier, this warrior.

His support is met with a flash of silver. He catches the blade in his hand, wrapping his fingers around the hilt, and yes, part of the blade. The metal bites at him and he smiles at the Agent who sits defeated before him with their armor crushing their own lungs, helmet digging into their own skull, and still fighting.

But the fight is dying, as is the Agent.

Doomfist touches the helmet then pauses. The glinting yellow visor is miraculously untouched and the defiance in their body does not require him to see their eyes though he would have liked too. And the action of removing it would likely kill the Agent instantly.

So instead he grabs the discarded pistol and wraps their hand around it.

“I commend you… brave even in the face of death. You were a worthy opponent.”

The Agent’s breath is coming slower now. Weakness tries to make the hand holding the knife slip away but Doomfist tightens his hold and thus theirs. Blood, his or theirs, trails down their arms.

“Tell me… what is your name, soldier?”

The Agent angles their head, looking at him as much as they are able. Bloodied lips part and whisper their name, quiet and fading.

He smiles, clasps his hand tenderly over their heart, “Well met. I am Akande Ogundimu. It was an honor to know you.”

It takes a moment and the Agent smiles, and it is _that_ smile, grim and foretelling death. Two soldiers, _enemies_ , but not in this moment.

The Agent passes in the next one.

Doomfist places both hands over the pistol and then stands. He turns and walks toward his rendezvous with his associates. In his hand glints a blade covered in the blood of one whose name he will not forget.

**Author's Note:**

> reviews inspire~!
> 
> Prompt:  
> Doomfist mortally wounds an enemy Helix Security agent…and commends the soldier for their bravery and defiance in their dying moments.


End file.
